


Emma's Birthday, A Blind Date, and Erik's Stupid Face

by Gerec



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Erik is Charles' ex, Holidays, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Tony and Charles and Emma are childhood friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 19:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17048942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec
Summary: Tony is determined to get Charles to Emma's birthday/holiday party. Charles would rather stay home...that is until Tony offers to set him up with a very hot, very blond, very muscle-y ex-Army Captain as his date.





	Emma's Birthday, A Blind Date, and Erik's Stupid Face

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lachatblanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/gifts).



> For my darling Lach! Happy Holidays!!!
> 
> (And yes there's probably more but I wanted to post this since the 'more' might not happen until Jan. lol xoxox).

He’s been in the car for ten minutes when his cell starts ringing, blasting AC/DC’s ‘Thunderstruck’ loud enough to jolt him from his half comatose state.  
  
“Oh my god I _just_ landed,” Charles groans into his state-of-the-art, Stark issued phone slash satellite GPS slash probable supercomputer, “can’t whatever this is wait until I get home? Preferably after I throw myself face first into my bed for the next twenty four hours?”

“No can do, Charles-y my boy,” is the answer he gets, which – to be fair – is exactly the answer he’d expect from his best and oldest friend. “It’s T minus nine hours until Emma’s party and you’re nowhere _near_ ready for a full scale, Frost patented holiday extravaganza.”

A week ago it had seemed like a brilliant idea, catching a ride back to New York on Tony’s private jet, after wrapping his semester as guest lecturer at Oxford. He would make it back in time for Emma’s birthday, and then spend the rest of the holidays binging on Netflix and Chinese take-out. But the last forty eight hours had turned out to be an absolute slog, trying to tie up so many loose ends that he can barely keep his eyes open, and the last thing he wants to do now is get all dressed up and go to a glitzy, high profile party—

“Do you think I could get away with a no show?” he asks, heaving a tired sigh when Tony starts laughing, entirely unsympathetic and not at all helpful. “I mean, how painful do you think it’ll be on a scale of one to ten? When I’m being murdered by Emma in cold blood.”

“She’ll kill you, resurrect you and then kill you again,” Tony replies, which is ridiculous and also, not that far from the truth. “Listen, all you have to do is make an appearance, kiss the birthday girl and drink some champagne…we used to party much, _much_ harder on way less sleep.”

“God, Tony that was over ten years ago! I have an actual career these days, and responsibilities, and—”

“Stop, stop, you’re killing me here, Charles,” Tony interjects. “If _I_ can do it than you can do it too! In case you’ve forgotten I am also a very important person, making big decisions and doing all the grown up things!” 

Charles scoffs. “You mean you have Pepper handling all your actual work while you tinker in your lab day and night. And unless you’re willing to let me hire her away—”

“No! You get your own Pepper, Xavier! She’s a thousand percent off limits I mean it—”

He closes his eyes and tilts his head back with a sigh, content to listen to Tony go off on a tangent about his PA. It’s a little funny, how the man is _still_ in such ridiculous denial over his very intense, very possessive feelings for Pepper; though hopefully, Tony figures it out soon – by New Year’s ideally – or Charles is going to lose his shirt in the gang’s betting pool.

“—are you even listening to me? Charles? Did you fall asleep?”

“No, no sorry just resting my eyes,” he answers, and Tony huffs with feigned annoyance, before launching into another tirade about Charles acting like a boring old man. The whole thing is inexplicably soothing and familiar, making him realize just how much he’s been missing his sister and his closest friends in the months he’s been away.

Still, there’s no good reason to give in to Tony’s machinations without putting up at least a token fight.

“I don’t have anything to wear. My tux was ruined remember? And I haven’t had the chance to replace it yet.”

“Emma picked one out for you and my tailor’s on his way over with it. He’ll get you fitted and do the alterations there.”

“My hair’s a right mess. I need to get it cut.”

“Raven’s got a guy. She’s bringing him over.”

“Food? Sleep? I’m in no shape for—”

Tony cuts him off before he can finish. “Done and done. Food will be delivered and you have five hours to nap. That leaves you four hours to shower, shave and get dolled up for the party. My car’s coming to get you at seven p.m. sharp.”

Charles can’t help it; he laughs and laughs at the absurd, military-like precision of Tony’s whole ‘get Charles to the party’ operation. “Did you happen to get me a date too? Is someone going to be gift wrapped and hand delivered to my door at nineteen hundred hours?”

He’s kidding of course, because even Tony wouldn’t go so far as to set him up with a blind date within his first twenty four hours back on U.S. soil. But _then_ —

“Actually, yeah. I know a guy. Handsome, artist, ex-Army Captain. Too bland for me but he’s right up your alley. You’ve got a thing about _good manners_.”

It takes a moment for Charles to actually register the words, before his mind catches up to the implication of what Tony’s just said. “Oh no. No, no, no, no, _no_. I’m in absolutely no shape to meet new people. Especially hot new people I might want to make a good first impression on. And possibly take home some other time I’m not feeling like death warmed over for sex.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and then a considering hum before Tony decides to drop the proverbial bomb. “Are you sure? ‘Cause your ex is coming tonight.”

Charles doesn’t _whine_ – though it’s a near thing – but he does groan pitifully, leaning forward to bang his head on the back of the front passenger seat. “Why? Why did you guys invite him? You _know_ how I get around Erik, especially after a few drinks—”

“Hey it wasn’t me! Emma invited him, ‘cause I guess they’re still friends or some shit. You have only yourself to blame though, with all that ‘it’s fine that we broke up you guys don’t have to pick sides or stop being friends with him’ crap. You know if you just told her how you really feel she’ll stab him in the heart with her stiletto heel and serve it to you on a silver platter.”

“She’s a telepath too! I shouldn’t have to _tell_ her…” It’s a weak assed excuse and he knows it.

“Whatever. Are you sure you don’t want a hot date? You and I both know that bastard’s going to bring someone young and flashy to try and make you jealous, and you’re going to totally fall for it again like you did last time and the time before that. And then you’re going to end up having hate sex with him _again_ , even though you swore it would never, ever happen, until the _next_ time it happens and you—"

“Ugh please shut up; you’re the worst friend I’ve ever had in my entire life!”

Tony snorts. “You mean I’m the best friend you’ve ever had or will ever have, because who else would line up a bona fide sex god for you to piss off your stupid ex-boyfriend? Me that’s who. Now are you in or not?”

“Send me a picture,” he says and promptly hangs up, cutting Tony off before he can remind Charles what a mess his life has become, and how he really shouldn’t have tried to take the high road after the messy breakup ten months ago.

The cell pings then, three, four, five times in rapid succession; no doubt the pictures of said blind date as Charles requested. His interest is half-hearted at best, that is, until he gets an eyeful of sweaty, muscle-y biceps in the very first image, a side shot of a tall, blond, very well built man making mincemeat out of the swaying punching bag. The next shot is even better, showing the front of the man as he’s jogging towards the camera, t-shirt slightly too tight over his bulging chest and arms. He’s absolutely, positively, drop dead gorgeous, and Charles _can’t wait_ to walk into Emma’s party, arm-in-arm with his very own Adonis come to life.

It does _not_ give him a hot surge of vicious satisfaction, imagining the sour expression on Erik’s stupid face.

He sends Tony a quick text. _Name?_

_Steve Rogers. Rank Captain. Retired, US Army._

Charles scrubs his face and chuckles as he types his reply.

_I’m in._


End file.
